Grocery Run
by Philote
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission to trade for food. But when is anything ever simple on an alien planet? (Sheppard-McKay friendship, non-slash)


**Grocery Run**

By Philote

Rating: PG

Category: Humor, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, friendship

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission to trade for food. But when is anything ever simple on an alien planet? (Sheppard-McKay friendship, non-slash)

Spoilers: slight references to "Poisoning the Well"

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of _Stargate: Atlantis_ do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Medical Disclaimer: My Daddy always wanted me to be a doctor. Alas, my tendency to faint at the sight of blood and have panic attacks in the vicinity of needles quickly derailed that goal. Thus, medical knowledge is not my forte. While I try to make it sound professional and have done some online research to make it as authentic as possible, I make no guarantees about medical accuracy herein.

Whew. Now that that's done…enjoy the story. Feedback is welcome!

oOo

It was an odd sight. The Major was always in control and cool under pressure. It was very rare to see him as flustered as he was right now.

McKay was enjoying it immensely. He was rocking on his heels, arms wrapped smugly around his chest, clearly trying not to burst into laughter. Sheppard kept shooting glares at him any moment when he wasn't warily watching the natives.

Ford seemed to be finding it pretty entertaining as well. He was trying to school his expression, but every few minutes some new move would be executed and a grin would break out. He would have to look away, almost shaking with contained laughter.

Teyla gave no outward indication of amusement. She was more accustomed to these people and their odd little rituals. But then, she had been the one encouraging the Major to take part and thus kindle the respect and affection of the Naearans. It was safe to say that she was enjoying this as well.

Stackhouse, Markham, and Smith were standing on the opposite side of the fire, looking a bit shell-shocked. This was an image of their superior they had probably never expected—or wanted—to see.

Dr. Carson Beckett stood back from it all, observing the dynamics between the teammates even as he too goggled at the strange ritual and the Major's part in it.

The Naearans were a simple tribe of people with whom Sheppard's team had made first contact a week ago. They were farmers and hunters during the warm months on this planet, though their settlement had only a few permanent structures. They moved to harsher terrain where the climate was warmer during the colder months. Thus there were mostly tents of varying sizes, near the fields and centered around a main area where the relatively small community gathered around a fire.

They were very welcoming to their new friends. Their crop was plentiful along with the small game that they hunted nearby, and they were quite willing to share if potential trading partners had something that interested them.

Basically, they were a developmentally-young civilization. They had a rudimentary medical knowledge. The Healers relied on natural remedies that generally worked for minor ailments, but their doctoring abilities were very limited.

Sheppard's team had been enjoying a meal with the natives and discussing a possible trade when one of the Chieftain's young grandsons had begun choking on some sort of sprout. The natives had been at a loss, moving to pound him on the back but unclear how to actually help. In the midst of the erupting chaos, Sheppard had rushed over and performed the Heimlich maneuver, thus saving the boy's life. The Naearans had been awed. The Major, of course, had offered to teach them this 'trick' and others as part of the deal.

So, when they had come back to Atlantis and Sheppard had explained the trade agreement to Dr. Weir, a bit of medical training had been included. Carson could teach them some general first aid skills that would require no technology or advanced medications, but would make their lives a bit easier.

Granted, this was a job that any of the doctors under his charge could have performed. Even a nurse or two could have fulfilled this duty adequately. But Carson hadn't been offworld since Hoff.

In fact, Carson had hardly been out of the med-lab since Hoff.

He'd known perfectly well that when Dr. Weir suggested he take this mission himself, she was trying to ease him back. This was a safe mission, with simple people who didn't expect him to promote their medical knowledge to any great length beyond what they already had.

Nevertheless, he had tried to get out of it.

It hadn't worked. Weir probably would have allowed him to weasel out, even though she was looking disappointed in him. Rodney was a different story. He had stared at him in disbelief, whined, annoyed him relentlessly, and done it all with a compassion in his eyes that he refused to let show in his words.

It was that compassion that had eaten at him. Damn Rodney for giving him that rare glimpse beneath his arrogant, standoffish exterior. Knowing that his friends were worrying about him had gotten to Carson, and made him feel guilty.

And here he was.

He had done his duty. He'd even been fairly patient with the primitive Healers he was trying to teach. But he hadn't been in the mood for a party. He'd tried to convince Sheppard to let him go back to Atlantis with one of the marines. But it seemed that John Sheppard, too, was in on the make-Carson-feel-better campaign, for he had insisted that the doctor stay and enjoy the celebration. So Carson had stayed, but he had sulked. He knew he was hanging back, setting himself apart and not enjoying himself as the others were.

However, at the moment, he could admit that he was glad he was here. And Sheppard was definitely lightening his mood a bit.

Once Dr. Weir had okayed the trade and they had been preparing to come back, Ford had taken to calling the mission their "grocery run." Since Sheppard's team had never actually managed a simple trading mission for food, he felt it deserved some fanfare, or at least a nickname. Unfortunately for the Major, the rest of the base had seemed to agree. Everyone had taken to calling it "Sheppard's Grocery Run." This had prompted the Major to glare at the Lieutenant at random intervals for the past few days, mumbling something about naming things and busting his rank.

Then, when they had made the agreement and were carrying out the trades, Ford had let slip to a beautiful native girl that this was the first trade they had actually arranged. He must have made a big deal of it, for she began to do so as well. Before they knew it, the Naearans were planning a festival in their honor…especially in honor of the leader who'd brokered the deal. The leader was expected to take part in the rituals of the festival.

And here they were.

Sheppard had been stripped of his jacket, vest, and shirt. In their place, a native form of body paint covered his torso. There were vibrant colors and swirling patterns that seemed to gyrate whenever he moved.

When the Major had first reappeared from the tent, the sight had made even McKay speechless.

He had since recovered. Standing just outside the circle of dancing bodies, Rodney called, "Major, I think its more of a twirl." The scientist helpfully twirled a finger in demonstration.

Sheppard shot him a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone. Rodney merely smirked back at him.

He seemed to have taken the heat off of Ford for the time being. While the Lieutenant was wisely staying silent, McKay's 'helpful' hints and comments had definitely earned the Major's wrath.

But most of Sheppard's attention was occupied by Ford's young lady, who also happened to be the Chieftain's daughter. Kali was demonstrating the dance for the Major as he tried to imitate her moves. Somehow, she made it look graceful and artistic. Even the other men of the tribe who had joined in the dance made it seem majestic. The Major, however, vaguely reminded Carson of a brightly colored jellyfish flopping about on land.

Funny, he would have thought that with Sheppard's natural confidence and physical prowess, the man would have been more graceful.

In his defense, he wasn't exactly the ballet type. Some of those steps were vaguely reminiscent of pirouettes and plies. The Naearan dancers easily kept the rhythm set by a native drum as they performed the steps in unison and rotated the circle around the fire. Major Sheppard tried in vain to keep up as he avoided being stepped on or bowling anyone over.

Finally he took to a sort of skip that missed most of the steps but allowed him to keep up with the movement. Every once in a while he would throw in a twirl, and Carson would worry that Ford and McKay were going to hyperventilate.

When the drumbeat and the dancing finally stopped, Rodney burst into applause. John eyed him evilly from across the fire, but the natives studied him curiously and then mimicked the action, looking delighted.

The dancers dispersed, making room for low tables to be brought out from the side. Several of the Naearans paused to praise Sheppard for his efforts.

As the Major made his way back towards his team, Carson moved to join them as well.

McKay was still clapping, and laughing. "That was great, Major. Really…truly…great."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it Rodney. I'll be sure to let _you_ do it next time."

Rodney did not seem alarmed. Rather, he began to laugh even harder.

Sheppard turned and stomped a few feet away in search of his clothes. He was breathing hard from the exertion, an unnaturally red hint coloring his cheeks.

"Are ye all right there, Major?" Carson asked with at least a tad of true concern.

He got a scathing look for his trouble. "Oh, I'm just peachy."

"Actually, I'm not sure there's any peach left showing, Major." Rodney prodded a finger at the seamless designs on Sheppard's back, where there really was no discernable skin tone showing. And then Ford was off again, slapping a hand over his mouth to contain his giggles.

John glared at them both and slapped Rodney's hand away. "Keep it up, McKay. I'll make you black and blue."

"Sure you will." Rodney was still unconcerned by the threats. "But honestly Major, why did you choose the Air Force when you had talent like that? You could have had a great career…as a clown."

Oh, Rodney was on a roll. At this rate, Carson feared his head might be rolling within the next few minutes.

John resorted to glaring at him murderously again, apparently having no adequate retort at the moment. His cheeks were still tinged red as he found his t-shirt and quickly pulled it back on.

Rodney took his lack of answer gleefully. "What, did the paint sap you of your sense of humor? It is certainly dulling everything else around you."

"McKay, so help me, if you don't shut up…" Sheppard growled threateningly.

Teyla tried to help. "I think the colors are…festive, Major."

This set both McKay and Ford off again. Carson found himself smiling as well, though he was beginning to have cause to worry about Sheppard's obviously rising blood pressure.

Blessedly, Kali approached them at that point, a charming smile on her face. "You did very well, Major Sheppard."

"Thank you, Kali," John responded pointedly, smiling at her and ignoring his less-than-commending team.

"Please join us for the celebratory meal?" she asked, sweeping an arm invitingly back towards the fire. The tables and some sort of cushions had been brought in.

"We would be honored," the Major replied, still ignoring the others. Nevertheless, they followed when he began walking after her, still conversing. "What makes this different from the last meal we shared together? Other than the hopeful avoidance of any medical emergencies, that is?"

She smiled and explained, "Much of the food is similar, but there are some special dishes. And there is much ceremony involved. You are all welcome to eat, of course, but only the leader and the chosen of our people may partake of the ritual dishes."

Sheppard visibly balked when she said the word 'ritual,' even though this one did look like less of a spectator sport.

He looked back to Teyla. The Athosian shook her head and shrugged; this wasn't a part of the ritual that she was familiar with. But she didn't seem concerned. "Go ahead, Major," she encouraged.

He shot her a look, then shifted his gaze to McKay. A slow smile spread across his face. Then, coughing slightly, he turned to face Kali. "You know, I'm on a strict diet for…health reasons. I really shouldn't have anything else tonight," he blatantly fibbed, and did it convincingly. He gave Carson a look that told him quite clearly not to contradict him. Then he reached back and grabbed McKay's arm, propelling him forward. "But Dr. McKay here, he really appreciates a good meal. And he is also a leader among our people."

Sputtering and resisting the Major's tug, Rodney looked about for help. Carson stepped back and kept his mouth shut, lest the Major point out the he too was a leader of a section of Atlantis' personnel. Besides, he knew McKay was simply balking on principle, because Sheppard was trying to shove it off on him. In truth, he had been glancing at the food longingly for the past half-hour, whenever he took a break from heckling the Major.

Sheppard patted him on the back as he handed him off to Kali. "Go ahead, McKay. It's your turn to experience something special."

Rodney glared at him for good measure—in case he was about to eat some body organ from an unpronounceable animal that the locals considered a delicacy. Sheppard smiled in a way that made Carson think that was exactly what he expected to happen.

Kali took Rodney by the hand and led him around to the other side of the head table, where her father already sat at the center with several of the chosen tribesmen surrounding him. She seated McKay, then came back to their side and encouraged them to sit across from him.

Sheppard motioned for the three Marines to come take seats as well. Stackhouse sat at the end of the second table, Markham on one side and Smith on the other.

Several young boys of the tribe came out to serve the food. They all received a plate and the Chieftain blessed the food before they began to eat.

Rodney waited until this moment to speak up. "Major, didn't you say something about not eating? We wouldn't want you to violate that strict diet of yours."

Sheppard stopped with the food midway to his mouth, then narrowed his eyes at McKay. Kali was watching them now, so he pasted a saccharine smile on his face and responded, "Thank you so very much for reminding me, McKay."

The boy behind him removed the plate, leaving Sheppard staring at an empty table.

Rodney smirked at him and went to his own plate, pointedly savoring each bite.

When none of the natives were watching, Ford slid his plate towards the Major. "Would you like my roll, sir?" he asked quietly, with a perfectly straight and sweet expression.

Carson had to look away to keep from bursting into laughter. When he looked back, Ford was down one roll and Sheppard seemed a bit mollified.

The meal wore on. Carson had to admit that the food was quite good. Occasionally those on the Chieftain's side were brought an extra small plate with something "special" on it. McKay made a particular fuss over each of these, ingratiating himself with the Chieftain and further annoying John. Periodically some small finger food would disappear whole from Ford's plate, with no one but Carson seeming to notice.

Finally, the boys were serving a last dish of dessert to only those seated on the Chieftain's side. One boy held the last plate out to McKay. Across from him Kali explained, "This is called Kinai. It is an extremely special dish, crucial to the ritual."

Rodney took it, looking at it a bit suspiciously, but as soon as he sniffed it his expression changed to a mouth-watering sort of interest. It looked like some sort of meringue, though it had a slightly purplish hint to it.

Rodney grabbed his spoon, but Carson reached to grip his wrist before he could eat. Addressing Kali he asked, "Is there fruit in that, lass?"

"There are some berries amongst the ingredients, but no…what was your word? Citrus? There is no citrus."

Rodney pulled free of his grip, looking annoyed. And of course, Carson should have known that McKay would have mentioned his allergy before he ate anything the first time around. Risk-taking was not exactly one of Rodney's characteristics, even when it came to food.

"Right, then. Carry on," he said awkwardly.

He needn't have said anything; Rodney was already on his second spoonful. He was making the experience seem almost sinful. "Oh my God, this is _so_ good." He held each bite in his mouth for a while before swallowing with a sigh.

Clearly, he was throwing it in the Major's face. It did seem that he had gotten the best of this situation. John gave him a wan—and painfully false—smile. "You want me to get you and the Kinai a room?" he asked.

Rodney took a moment to sneer before he went back to his oohing and ahhing.

Carson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The two of them were like brothers…brothers who were no older than 10, competing over everything and childishly trying to show each other up.

The antics had slowed him down a bit, and the others finished their Kinai before he did. The Chieftain polished off his plate and then stood. He said something in their native, ceremonial language. The people responded in kind. He turned to offer their group a smile, then left the table to head for the tents.

Rodney looked about in confusion as everyone else on his side of the table followed suit. "Where are they going?" Rodney asked around his last mouthful of the dessert.

"They must lie down to await the Revealing. You should as well; a tent has been prepared for you," Kali said graciously.

"The Revealing?" John asked.

"Yes. It is a great honor among our people to be chosen to experience the Revealing. When we are properly prepared, the gods may allow us to have visions of the future."

"Visions. Wait, you expect me to have visions?" McKay asked dubiously.

"Of course."

Carson was beginning to get an uneasy feeling. "What do you mean by 'properly prepared,' lass?"

"Oh, do not worry. He is already prepared; he has eaten the Kinai."

Teyla was starting to look a bit concerned as well. That, in turn, was making the rest of her team tune into the uneasiness. "Teyla, what's she talking about?" Sheppard asked with an obviously forced casualness.

She did not respond to him, instead posing a direct question to Kali. "The drug was in the Kinai?" she asked a bit urgently.

Kali seemed confused for a moment, then said with realization, "You mean the spice? Yes, it was mixed into the dish."

McKay dropped his spoon, an action that was probably pointless since he'd already eaten every bite. "Drug? What drug?" he asked with a trace of panic.

"It is a natural spice of sorts," Teyla explained. "It comes from a berry that is common to several of the planets. But it is not safe to consume."

"Poison?" McKay croaked.

Kali responded to Teyla. "We know this, but we do not eat them in pure form. They are refined and mixed with other substances to make the spice."

"Yes, but it is still not safe," Teyla said, somehow managing to convey patience in her voice despite the urgency in her features.

"What exactly does it do?" Carson asked anxiously.

Kali volunteered calmly, "Only when one is near death can one experience the enlightenment of the Revealing."

All the color drained from McKay's face.

Sheppard wasn't doing much better. "What?" he almost yelled.

"It is quite an honor," Kali repeated, confused now and not seeming to understand why her guests were reacting this way.

"Teyla?" Sheppard demanded, tension plain in his voice. Carson, too, looked to her urgently.

Teyla turned to the three of them, speaking in low tones. "I have heard stories of this, though I was under the impression that the practice was discontinued many years ago," she said apologetically. "The drug is said to slow the heart and put the person in a near-death state, where it induces visions. However it is usually experienced in small doses initially, at a young age at the height of health. Their bodies are conditioned to handle it. I am unsure how severe the effects may be on Dr. McKay."

Rodney made a strangled sound that strongly resembled a whimper. "I'm dying aren't I? I'm a dead man."

"Try to relax, Rodney," Carson intoned, displaying a calm that he didn't entirely feel.

"Relax! When you're dying sometime, let's see if you can relax!"

Carson didn't respond as he got up and headed for his medical supplies. Behind him, he heard Sheppard say to the confused Naearans, "Would you excuse us for a moment?" as he prodded Rodney up and moved him to follow Carson.

He rummaged about in the Med Kit for something he rarely had cause to use. Finding the container, he reached for a bottle of water and a clean cup. By the time Sheppard and McKay reached him, he had measured out a bit of the substance and was swishing the cup to dissolve it in the water.

John prompted Rodney to sit before looking back to the fire. Teyla had stepped up to talk to Kali and the others. Stackhouse was looking at the Major questioningly, and Sheppard shook his head slightly and made some small motion with his hand. Carson decided that he had been hanging around the military officers far too much, for he knew that was a signal to hold current position and wait to see what happened.

With that he turned back to Carson. "Doc? What are we doing here? Should we head back to the gate?"

"I'd rather not take any chances. It is at least a forty-five minute journey back to the gate, Major. I would suggest we do something before then." He handed the cup to McKay. "Drink, Rodney."

He looked at it suspiciously before bringing it to his lips. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, choking on the sip he had taken.

Sheppard glanced at him sharply.

"Carson's trying to poison me too!"

Carson started to speak up, but the Major beat him to it. "Drink it, McKay," he ordered shortly, his jaw set.

Rodney graced him with a very foul glare, but drained the glass before thrusting it back into Carson's hands. "What was that?"

"Zinc Sulphate. It's an emetic." At the blank looks from both McKay and Sheppard he continued, "It'll induce vomiting."

"Lovely," McKay said with a grimace.

"If we had proper facilities, I would pump your stomach. But we don't."

At this point, though the emetic had not had time to take effect yet, Rodney was looking a bit green.

At his side, Sheppard asked, "How long will it take?"

"It could take a bit. We might want to move him further from the festivities; perhaps to those bushes over there."

Sheppard nodded. "Good idea," he said, and reached to take McKay's elbow.

Rodney pulled away from the support. "I'm not dead yet. I can walk," he snapped, and headed for the bushes Carson had pointed out.

Carson exchanged a glance with the Major, but neither of them commented on the attitude. They both knew how Rodney could be when he was frightened.

McKay made his way to the area and sat down heavily on the ground. Carson and Sheppard followed more slowly. When they reached him, Carson knelt nearby while the Major stood back a bit. They settled into silence, Rodney staring at the ground, Sheppard staring alternately at Rodney and the distant natives, and Carson watching both men.

Ford trotted towards them after a few minutes had passed. "Teyla's trying to smooth things over, and explain why we're having a problem with this." He hovered over them for a few minutes. "Do you need anything?" he finally asked.

Sheppard's mind seemed elsewhere, and he didn't even respond. Carson spoke up, "I'll be needing a sample of that dish, lad. Or preferably the straight drug, if they'll give it to you."

"Sure thing." Ford looked glad to have something useful to do. He headed back towards the fire.

Carson fully settled on the ground near Rodney and studied Sheppard, who was standing rigidly nearby. "I can handle him alone, Major." He ignored Rodney's contemptuous look at the 'handling' statement and continued, "We'll be fine if you need to get back to the Naearans."

Sheppard finally broke his thoughts to look at Carson and Rodney. McKay was starting to look decidedly unwell, rocking slightly as he curled a hand around his stomach. Sheppard knelt beside them, and Carson watched curiously as he took gentle hold of Rodney's arm and slid a hand across his back to brace him. Rodney did not pull away this time.

Only then did Sheppard finally address Carson's statement. "If I go back over there right now, whatever relations we may have with these people are going to go up in smoke."

Carson looked more closely at the Major. Anger was obviously simmering just below the surface as he held McKay with a decidedly protective air. Oh, yes, Major John Sheppard was pissed. He did not take kindly to those who hurt his people, even if harm had not been the intention.

"Maybe we should rethink our choice of grocery store. See if there are lower prices up the road," Rodney tried to joke, but it fell flat as a stomach cramp seized him and he gasped, trying to curl up.

Sheppard's grip tightened as Carson moved in close on the scientist's other side. "Easy, lad. Don't fight it." He wrapped his fingers around Rodney's wrist to keep track of his pulse, resting his other hand above Major Sheppard's on the trembling back.

They both held onto him as the nausea took firm hold and the vomiting began.

After long minutes of retching, when he was finally able to take a few calming breaths, McKay angled his head slightly to look up at the Major. "This is all _your_ fault," Rodney choked out accusingly. "Here, take McKay, he'll eat anything and its his turn to be miserable."

Carson knew that Rodney was just blowing off steam, in typical Rodney-fashion. He was too out-of-it to see that the Major took his words to heart. It was clear that he had already been blaming himself. He tightened his lips and said nothing, instead taking to rubbing Rodney's back to offer some measure of comfort.

After another wave of vomiting Rodney slumped into the Major's support and continued weakly, "I should throw up on you. Then you'd have to go home in nothing but your body paint."

Despite himself, Carson chuckled slightly. The Major snorted, a small grin gracing his face as he adjusted his grip on his friend. "Don't even think about it, McKay. No one else is _ever_ going to hear of that dance, you got me?" he said with a lightness that didn't reach his eyes.

"Gotta put it in the mission report. Can't lie, can we?" McKay shot back, a hint of the typical glimmer in his eyes. "Besides, I think Ford had the camera."

"What!"

Carson piped in calmly, "It was quite the sight, Major. We should preserve it for posterity." As Sheppard shot him an evil look and Rodney giggled weakly, he took note of the pulse beneath his fingertips. It was slowing; not dangerously, but slower than normal. He expected that, though they had evacuated most of his stomach contents and as much of the drug as possible, at least a bit of it had probably seeped into his system anyway. He wondered how severe the 'visions' would be, and how long it would take before McKay began to exhibit them.

He had one more round of retching that was more dry heaves than vomiting. As he helped ease Rodney back into John's support, Carson reached for the bottle of water once more. McKay eyed him warily. "Plain water this time. I promise."

Sheppard reached for it and did the coaxing for him. "Come on, Rodney. Small sips."

Carson watched in amazement as the physicist actually did as he was told. He managed a bit before he pushed it away, and John glanced at Carson in question. He nodded and took the bottle back. "That's enough for now."

Rodney was exhausted and miserable, leaning against Sheppard. He shut his eyes wearily and allowed his head to loll against the Major's chest, a testament of implicit trust that belied his earlier words of accusation.

Sheppard, meanwhile, was a study in contradictions. He held Rodney gently, still lightly stroking his back in comfort. But his expression revealed his tension.

Beckett watched the two men, taking a moment to marvel at the unlikelihood of their relationship. In the beginning, there had been a betting pool amongst much of the non-military personnel about how long this team situation would last before Sheppard got fed up with McKay or vice versa. Had he been a betting man, Carson would have wagered that Rodney McKay would never really get along with anyone in the Military, let alone become friends.

But now…he was having to revise that opinion.

Carson had been one of the few on the Antarctic base to honestly call Rodney a friend. The man was just not easy to get close to. Demonstrations like this, showing trust and an established comfort level, were nonexistent. And Sheppard was acting the part of a protective big brother. There was a definite bond forming there.

His musings were interrupted as Ford and Teyla joined them. They stood back until Carson motioned them forward.

Ford presented Carson with a little bowl filled with a powdery substance as Teyla knelt beside them. "How are you feeling, doctor?"

Rodney cast a sideways glance at the Major before he said flippantly, "Peachy."

Sheppard snorted and shook his head.

Carson said, "He's going to be just fine, lass."

Teyla nodded thankfully to him. "They are terribly sorry for this. Their people tolerate the spice; apparently they haven't had a death in the last year."

"Oh, well that's comforting," John said sarcastically.

"They don't understand things like drug tolerance," Carson offered. "Their people handle it, they see no reason why others shouldn't. They were only trying to bestow an honor on you."

"I know," Sheppard muttered, bringing a hand up to rub his face. "I know."

"I think I wanna go home now," McKay murmured, slurring the words slightly.

"I hear you," Sheppard soothed. "We'll go soon."

"We cannot all go now," Teyla put in softly, a bit regretfully. "It would be an insult, and they feel badly enough."

It was clear that John wanted to argue that point. But he couldn't. As the leader representing them here, he needed to stay. He nodded resignedly. "Ford, take Markham and Smith. You guys get McKay and Beckett back to Atlantis. Teyla and I will stay with Stackhouse and wrap things up with the Naearans."

Ford nodded, going to get the others and their gear. Carson patted Rodney on the back and moved to follow him, trusting that his patient was in capable hands for the moment.

They were a few yards away before the Lieutenant turned and slowed, waiting for him to catch up. The young man asked simply, "He's gonna be okay, right?"

Carson smiled. Here was yet another one that he would never have expected to care for McKay. "Yes, lad. He'll be fine. We may have to deal with some minor hallucinations, however."

"What sort of hallucinations?"

"Oh, there's really no way I could predict that. Heaven only knows what Rodney's mind may come up with."

Now Ford definitely looked worried.

Carson packed up his things including his sample of "spice" while Ford gathered Markham and Smith. Together the four of them made their way back to the others. The three hadn't moved; Rodney still leaning on the Major as Sheppard and Teyla had a soft conversation over his head. He didn't seem to care enough to pay attention.

Ford adjusted his pack as they drew near. "Sir?"

Sheppard nodded to Ford, who came close and knelt beside his two teammates. The Major nudged McKay until he was upright on his own, then the Lieutenant carefully took hold of him and pulled him to his feet. Rodney swayed unsteadily, gripping Ford's shoulder like a lifeline. Aiden steadied him and watched him a bit anxiously. "Okay, Doc?"

The slight answering nod, minus any snarky response, prompted his three teammates to exchange concerned glances.

They bid goodbye to the Major and Teyla and began to make their way slowly back towards the gate.

oOo

"That is the last time I ever eat anything offered by the natives. From here on out, I swear by power bars and MRE's."

Ford winced as he watched McKay dig into his current MRE with gusto. "Oh, that can't be good for you. Dr. Beckett?"

"Actually, MRE's are designed to provide the necessary nutrients, and power bars are healthy as well." He paused, watching Rodney's gloating look for a moment before adding, "They just taste lousy."

Rodney sneered at him. "Fine. You all die from some alien form of salt. More food for me."

They had all made it back to Atlantis fairly unscathed. Sheppard, Teyla, and Stackhouse had returned a few hours after the rest of them, feelings successfully smoothed and trade agreement secured.

Rodney had had some minor hallucinations. He remained generally aware of where he was and who was with him, and didn't seem to have seen anything life-altering. Still, he had worried Ford when he started talking about mutant butterflies as they neared the gate, and was quite convinced for a while that said butterflies had followed him home and were fluttering around the infirmary.

Carson had determined that the Naearans' "spice" was quite the hallucinogen to have had such an effect with so little actually absorbed into his bloodstream.

But the butterflies had disappeared now. Rodney seemed back to his normal self. Carson was planning to release him shortly, but at the moment he was enjoying his first real meal since the incident. If one called an MRE a real meal, that is.

His three team members were gathered around his bed, along with Carson.

Major Sheppard was being conspicuously quiet.

He had seemed normal at first, once he'd seen that Rodney was going to be okay. He had even almost convinced Weir that Rodney's tale of him dancing around a fire in bright colors had been part of the hallucinations, until Carson had forced the jacket and shirt off of him so he could check the effects of the paint on his skin. The paint that seemed to be rather permanent, and would not be fully coming off for a good while.

He had sat at Rodney's bedside patiently, enduring the hallucinations. He had grabbed his hand when he got tense over something he was seeing, and tolerated it when Rodney was lazily tracing the spiral on his wrist and mumbling about a swirling vortex. But Carson suspected he would have done that anyway. The telling thing was that he had yet to tease the now perfectly coherent physicist about any of it. It was this that told Carson he was still harboring some guilt about what had happened on the planet.

Rodney, though preoccupied with his food, picked up on this quickly enough. "Major, your mood doesn't seem to match your decorative skin," he needled. A bit more seriously he added, "What's wrong with you?"

Sheppard sighed. "It should have been me. It's my place to take the bullets, or the poisoned meringue desserts, as the case may be. I'm sorry, Rodney."

McKay's gaze had snapped to him, their eyes meeting. Carson watched as a sort of silent communication went between them.

When Rodney spoke, his voice was light. "Hey, it's not as if you were trying to kill me." He trailed off, and looked at John with sharp suspicion. "You weren't trying to kill me, were you?"

"Of course not!" Sheppard sputtered, a slight smile crossing his face. "I just wanted to see you have to eat something disgusting or be otherwise embarrassed in front of everyone."

"Well gee, that's all right then," Rodney said snidely. He was smiling, though. "Eye for an eye, huh?" After a moment he shrugged, going back to his meal. "One of us was going to go through it. Granted, I would have preferred it was you or Ford. Or Stackhouse, Markham, or Smith. Or even Teyla." He paused, casting Carson a sideways glance. "Not you though. Having you incoherent would just be frightening."

Carson wasn't sure if that was a compliment to his medical skills or an insult to his personality. He settled for a wary, "Thank you, Rodney. I think."

Teyla spoke up then. "I too must apologize, Doctor. While I was under the impression that they had discontinued that ritual, I had heard of it and I should have made certain that the meal was safe."

McKay shook his head slightly. "It's not your fault. I'm glad you knew enough about it to tell us what was going to happen. You probably saved my life."

"He's right about that, lass," Carson threw in.

She graced them both with a smile and a deep nod of acquiescence.

With this second apology taken care of, they all naturally turned their attention to Ford. He stared at them for a second before saying, "What? I did nothing bad here."

"Grocery run," Sheppard mumbled, a slightly vindictive look in his narrowed eyes. "You just had to tell the pretty girl it was our first trade agreement, didn't you?"

Ford eyed him uneasily, then addressed McKay. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Doc. I should really go…do…something. I'll see you later."

Carson watched, amused, as Ford beat a hasty retreat.

Surprising as it was to him, he was glad he had gone on this mission. Nothing had been changed about his experiences with the Hoffans. But he was beginning to realize that it was time he stopped punishing himself. His position on this expedition would not allow him to cut himself off for long, anyway. Simply watching this team interact, especially John and Rodney, had reminded him that letting people in could bring good results.

Teyla excused herself a few moments after Ford took flight, leaving Sheppard with McKay. Carson wandered a short distance away, giving them their privacy but still within hearing range.

There were a few moments of silence. Then, "Seriously Major, it's all right." Rodney waited a moment, probably from some sort of affirmation from Sheppard. Then he continued, much more lightly, "Though I should warn you, I will be holding this over you for a very long time."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." With that behind them, the Major said teasingly, "So, mutant butterflies, huh?"

"Yes. Brightly colored mutant butterflies, doing twirls and pirouettes."

Carson didn't need to see the glare to know it was present. Sheppard responded, "So I'm a butterfly now?"

"Hey, I can't help how my subconscious views you."

Shaking his head, Carson left the two squabbling friends to their snark.

oOo


End file.
